Draco Malfoy and the Magic Unknown
by pandarae214
Summary: This is probably unlike any HP fanfic you know or love. This story picks up towards the end of The Battle of Hogwarts. Voldemort is defeated, but a at a price. This story was made in collaboration with my friend gotdraco and the basic plot at least is laid out. Let me say out of the gate, don't get offended.
1. Battle of Hogwarts

**This is my first fanfic so go easy on me. I'd appreciate a review at the end if you would. Enjoy the story!**

**Disclaimer: Neither Lord Prime Minister Sir nor I own any part of the Harry Potter series. I don't think either of us could handle the sheer responsibility.**

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**The Battle of Hogwarts**

"_Protego!" _roared Harry, and the Shield Charm expanded in the middle of the Hall, and Voldemort stared around for the source as Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak at last.

Draco Malfoy spun around and saw, to his surprise, Harry Potter facing The Dark Lord in the center of the Hall surrounded by a bubble of magic.

"Potter's alive?" he whispered more to himself than anything half way between shock and relief. He watched as the young wizard and tall figure began to circle. Their mouths moved and their eyes were locked in a deadly, cold stand off, but the force field muffled the words. They continued to counter each other never breaking concentration while everyone outside the sphere was dead silent, mentally cheering on their side. Suddenly Harry said something to The Dark Lord to make his smile disappear and Malfoy could feel the tension about to break.

By now, without noticing, Draco had worked his way to the edge of the arena and other curious wizards had filled in behind him. Harry and Voldemort shouted simultaneously. The bang was like a cannon blast, and the golden flames that erupted between them, at the dead center of the circle they had been treading, marked the point where the spells collided. Draco saw the Elder Wand fly up and caught it as it fell, quickly slipping it into his robe. He didn't know why he did what he did. It was as if the wand called out to him and his body reacted on instinct. When it touched his hand, he felt something cold sweep over him like a lonely winter breeze. It gave him terrible goose bumps and he shook violently to rid himself of the feeling when he was swept up into the arms of a crying woman and her husband.

"Draco, sweetie, honey, Mummy thought she lost her baby! Never leave us ever again! Do you hear me? _Never_ leave Mummy or Daddy _ever_ again!" Narcissa blubbered out between sobs and kissing Draco's head.

Lucius all the while had his arms around his wife and son weakly repeating over and over, "My boy. My Draco." People rushing to fill the empty circle shoved the whole mess of them to the side.

"NO!" Molly Weasley could be heard crying, "HARRY, NO!"

"He can't be!"

"Harry, wake up! Get up you prat, you hear me?"

"Ron get off him, get off! Madam Pomfrey! Where's Madam Pomfrey?"

"Oh god, he's not breathing!"

"Out! Get out of my way!" Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, shoved past everyone and knelt over the motionless body of Harry Potter. Hogwarts held its breath for the longest five seconds the wizarding world had experienced in a very long time,. When she finished whatever tests she had to run, the well-loved witch with deep-set worry and smile lines stood up and faced away from the still lump with messy black hair that lay by her feet.

"Harry Potter is d-," she projected with her booming matter-of-fact voice loud and strong in the beginning determined to show no weakness, only to falter when she came the end. She took a deep breath and said as quickly and as clearly as she could, "Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, is dead," before she dissolved into sobs and crumpled to the floor holding Mrs. Weasley. They became the center of a mass crying. Some sat, others stood silently in disbelief, while every now and again there was an unidentifiable mob of bodies holding onto each other for what seemed like dear life.

The Malfoys clung to each other in the corner neither crying nor rejoicing, but standing watching over the scene unfolding before them. Draco saw Neville Longbottom holding Luna Lovegood who lay in a shaking mess on his lap. Longbottom himself stared into the distance as if he couldn't process what had just happened. The sword of Gryffindor leaned on the wall next to him, still wet with the blood of a giant python. Hermione Granger and Cho Chang wept on either side of Ginny Weasley who was hugging her legs with her face buried in her knees. Professor McGonagall had a concerned look on her face as she pat down the messy orange hair of Ronald Weasley. The poor boy had his arms around her tiny frame half hugging her but also using her to keep himself up. In the middle of the hall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arthur Weasley, and several other wizards were trying to calm down Hagrid who, between trumpets into his giant handkerchief kept rawring, "Harry! I won't lose you twice! No!" until Grawp reached a hand through one of the broken windows and gently picked Hagrid up, and brought him outside with him.

"That's enough. We should leave," Lucius whispered to his family. Without waiting for a reply, he gently pushed them toward the main door and out into the cold night where they walked to the edge of the school grounds before disapparating back to Malfoy Manor.

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For the next couple of months, those who knew mourned the great loss of their Boy Who Lived. Diagon Alley seemed to be covered in a black oily layer that would not come off, even under the harshest scrubbing. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry reopened school as usual starting with Harry Potter week where all house tapestries were replaced with solid black silk banners. There was one place more than any that echoed the death of its fallen champion. The Burrow, now minus Fred, was also absent of its usual warm glow and lived in noise.

The boy named Potter affected even the most unlikely of places.

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**Well, I know short chapter. Tell me what you think in the review and hopefully I'll update...soon. I already have half the next chapter written so here's hoping!**


	2. Only in His Mind

**Thank you guys for the reviews! I really do appreciate them. I haven't really established a publishing schedule, but maybe along with some opinions about the writing, give me a day you'd like me to publish on every week? If I have a schedule I'm more likely to post chapters instead of becoming unmotivated and giving up. Again, you don't have to! I'm hopefully going to continue this story either way because I already have the basic plot in mind.**

**What will happen next? Let's find out! It'll be fun! I'll have fun...**

**I don't own Harry Potter, otherwise I'd have my own laptop.**

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Only in His Mind

Malfoy Manor, which never really held any warmth for him in the first place, seemed more like a prison to Draco than ever before. Ever since the battle, he and his family had not left the house for anything. The public was persecuting all Death Eaters and for their own safety, they held up in their estate sending servants to get what was necessary. Draco now spent his days in his room mostly, reading or practicing his spells, but every now and again he'd take the old silver wand box out of his wardrobe and look over its new contents; the Elder Wand. He never dared to use it of course. Simply having it in his possession was risk enough, he had decided.

If asked even now, the young Malfoy couldn't tell you whether it was the wand, his own creeping madness, or something else that caused it, but when the house became very quiet and Draco was between books or incantations, he would hear a voice. A very tiny whisper at the back of his mind suggesting his next piece of literature or reminding him of his wand motions. If he stopped what he was doing and listened, it would die away, but when he pretended it was normal and consulted with it, a conversation would ensue and he would be learning things in ways he never thought or quickly casting spell after spell with precision aim and accuracy.

Through the long days with little to no events, the voice served as a companion more intelligent than any pet. It could understand his thoughts and give advice that seemed sensible. The blonde wizard began to feel closer to it than any friend he ever had, though he never really had true friends. They were all attracted to him because of his family's power and position. This voice in his head didn't seem to care who he was or how many galleons he had to his name. Of course, he was too proud to admit he liked the voice even remotely, but he tried not to spurn it too often. Just enough so it wouldn't think he actually took its advice seriously.

This second consciousness gave the prison of his home a softer appeal. He was a man now, but could look at his childhood home through fresh eyes. The quiet lawn looked warmer with the albino peacocks strutting in the morning sun. The portraits of Malfoys and other purebloods long dead looked less as if they were judging his every move and instead took on a proud and protecting gaze. His antique four-post bed was less off a barren, unloving designated spot to lay his head, but a soft, warm cradle to curl up in and feel at peace.

The other members of the household took notice. The house elves rejoiced in the fact he was too distracted to abuse them as he regularly did. The young master even stopped kicking them down the marble staircase for sport or literally pulling the rug out from under them so he could watch them scramble to pick up spilt dishes.

Mister and Misses Malfoy, on the other hand, began to worry about their heir. To them, he was becoming unfocused and mumbled when he thought no one was around. Without Draco's knowledge, they consulted witches and wizards who were experts in behavior. All of them came to the same conclusion: coping mechanism for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. They thought the defeat of the Dark Lord or the demise of someone so close to his age had some deep and painful affect on his fragile, impressionable mind. They recommended monitored social stimulation and discipline to distract his mind. Narcissa knew her son better so wasn't so easily swayed, but Lucius took their words to heart and was determined to get his only son back to normal, for the sake of the family name. He immediately started planning lavish dinner parties and encouraged Draco to invite other pureblood children (and in light of recent events, invited certain half-blooded guests as well). Every week at least the Malfoys' mansion was full of young guests in their best party attire eating, drinking, chatting, and dancing the night away.

One such night, someone had decided to bring along a couple bottles of firewhiskey so the guests were more rowdy than usual. Draco was even more disgusted with the entire goings on in his house so he snuck an unopened bottle into his coat and calmly walked out into the fresh air away from other young witches and wizards. He came to a circular fountain in the hedge maze and sat on the rim staring at the full moon reflected in the water. For a while, he just sat there considering everything that had happened in the last year and at the same time keeping his mind blank of certain unpleasant thoughts. He finally picked up the bottle and examined the label and wax seal.

"Well, maybe some of this will ease my mind. Seems to have worked wonders on my _guests_," he spoke aloud. The last part he sneered at for he did not invite them. This was all just a part of some plan his parents had come up with to distract him or something. The only reason he was going along with it was to appease his father. "Oh well," he decided breaking the wax around the top of the bottle, "bottoms up." He motioned a cheer and put the opening to his lips, but before he could knock back the drink and feel the liquid fire burn his throat, a voice from somewhere in the dark spoke.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a deep, sophisticated voice felt to command from the shadow of a near by oak. A tall figure of a man was leaning on the trunk with his arms crossed, his right foot flat against the bark and bright white teeth showing in a mischievous half smirk half playful smile. "You wouldn't want to disappoint dear old Mummy and Daddy." He pushed off the tree with his foot and swaggered into the moon light slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

Draco took the bottle from his mouth with the entirety of its contents accounted for. "Ha, my father. So long as I keep up appearances around anyone that matters I'm fine and we're the only ones out here."

The tall handsome stranger with neatly slicked back onyx hair gave a devilish grin then mock cooed at the wizard, "Aw, now if Papa heard you speaking in such a way you'd certainly be in trouble. I don't mean to keep you from ingesting that burning liquid to save you. Trust me, I could care less about your fate," the mysterious man sat down next to Draco on the fountain and kept eye contact with him, "I only mean to protect someone weaker than you right now. Your reckless actions could get him killed." The poisonous green eyes of this shadow man held Draco's slate grey ones. He didn't notice until it was too late the stranger had taken his bottle of liquor.

"Hey! Give that back-"

"Or what?" the man snickered as he took a drink out of the bottle and retreated into the darkness, "Your father will hear about this? Hahaha, believe you me, Draco dear, he may act when some underling is annoying you, but he will never believe this. Give it up." He then dissolved into the shadows leaving only an echo of "And don't let me catch you drinking again for the next year or so…"

Left alone and dumbfounded in the middle of his family's garden Draco brought his hand to his forehead and held it there. All he could manage was a soft, "_bloody hell?"_ before quietly making the trek back to his home and muttering an excuse about a head ache and trudging up the stairs to his room. As soon as his head hit his pillow, he was out like a light not even bothering to change out of his party clothes.

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**Well, another chapter! I** **thank all of you who are following/favoriting this story. It's really encouraging. Even if you aren't marking it I love all you readers! Remember to comment a day that would work for you on which I shall/should update!**


	3. Durmstrang

**Sorry this new chapter took me so long! I didn't have the computer for a while and when I did, the whole writing thing didn't happen. I believe they call that "writer's block." So early on goody. Well here you go! Leave a comment when you finish, if you would!**

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Durmstrang

"Where were you last night, Draco?" Lucius Malfoy asked his son sternly.

Draco had been staring intently at his breakfast. He had only finished his sausage and half his eggs with the triangles of toast and bacon still untouched.

_He will never believe this…_

"I had gone outside to get some fresh air when-"

_He will NEVER believe this…_

"When what? Spit it out boy I don't have time for your foolishness."

"When…the guests started to open bottles of firewhiskey. They became too much to deal with so I went outside to get away from the noise." Draco decided that whether his father believed him or not did not matter, but he lacked any proof that the event had occurred and he didn't fancy a trip to St Mungo's fourth floor any time soon.

"Well," concluded Lucius seeming to make up his mind about something, "that's just fine. Just know that, one day, you will have to deal with such buffoonery. The best thing to do is sit quietly and wait for it to blow over." The icy man stood up from the long granite table and turned to leave. Just as he was about to exit he said over his shoulder, "Oh, and Draco, your mother and I wish to speak to you in the second meeting room at 3 o'clock. See that you are not late." With that, he briskly strode out of the room leaving Draco with his thoughts and half-eaten breakfast.

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"Lucius are you certain this is the only way?" Narcissa sat to the right of her husband who sat at the head of a long, black table.

"The boy is unfocused, Narcissa. A year away from familiar things will do him some good. He has no drive. I hope that this will give him some direction. I have already made arrangements with Karkaroff." Mr. Malfoy shifted in his seat as his son entered the room looking very small next to the tall black-oak doors. Draco slank around the door closing it gently behind him, then turned around and faced his parents.

"You wanted to see me?" Not wanting to stand out in the mostly empty room, Draco sat across from his mother to the left of his father.

"Yes," Lucius decided to tell his boy the news. He could tell Narcissa still did not agree with him completely. He some hoped if he some how presented the idea as a fact Draco would be more likely to accept it, and then his wife could relax a little. "It concerns your behavior lately. You are becoming lethargic, locked up in your room all day, and you seem… distracted."

Draco was silent, finding something particularly interesting about the polished onyx tabletop.

Lucius paused, waiting for some indication from his son, but when none was given, he cleared his throat and continued, "Right, so your mother and I have been talking. I-er _we_ decided it would be best you had some activity to act as a stimulus."

Draco sat motionless.

"So, I've negotiated an internship with Igor Karkaroff at Durmstrang for a year."

Draco's head snapped up. A year in Durmstrang? I know I have always wanted to go there, but now. He felt he should not go. He could not; something was keeping him here.

"Arrangements have been made. You will be the head master's PA as well as the Dark Arts professor's consultant. You are to leave for Durmstrang at the week's end."

"No." Draco's fist slammed onto the table startling his parents. "I can't go to Durmstrang."

Mr. Malfoy composed himself and looked at his son sternly. "Why not?"

"I…don't know, but I can't. Now, if you'll excuse me," Draco got up out of his chair and started heading toward the door.

"YOUNG MAN!" Lucius slammed his hands down on the black table making Narcissa jump. "THAT IS NOT A LEGITAMATE REASON NOT TO GO! YOU ARE NOT EXCUSED NOW GET BACK HERE!"

"Well," Draco said coolly over his shoulder, "if you won't excuse me, then I suppose I'll just have to excuse myself." He put his left hand in his coat pocket and left without another word. He could hear his father yelling after him even in the hall, but he was dead set now.

As soon as Draco got to his room, any form of self-control was lost. He yelled and threw things at the wall in a fit of blind rage. The house elves on the same level as his room could hear loud thumps and glass shattering dreading the inevitable clean up.

"How dare he? Without my consent! Didn't even consider consulting me! Thinks himself my master! Arg!" After he ran out of things to break and the energy to break them, the tall blonde wizard had to content himself with pacing back and forth amongst the rubble raving to himself until he came to a realization. So long as he lived under his father's roof, he would always be treated like a child. If he stayed in this house, his father would, one way or another, force Draco to go to Durmstrang. The most frustrating part was, Draco did not have the foggiest clue _why_ he had to stay in England, he just _knew_.

"That's it." The young master stopped his pacing and turned glancing about the destroyed bedroom. He found his trunk usually filled with school robes, but since he had finished his years at Hogwarts, it sat empty in the corner collecting dust. Draco dragged to the middle of his room and threw it open. He had never learned it in school, but the voice at the back of his mind told him an undetectable extension charm he then cast on the medium sized black trunk. Draco went to his wardrobe and started dumping clothes by the armful into the open trunk until all the cloths he thought he needed were packed. When he went back to the wardrobe, which now stood gutted and hollow, he spotted a glint of silver and remembered the Elder Wand. He picked it up the box and examined it.

"I wouldn't trust leaving it here," he placed the box on top of the pile of clothes and shut the lid with ease. The last thing the house elves heard from Draco's room was a loud crack as he apperated off to who knows where.

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**Well another chapter down! Leave a review if you would just to know who actually likes this! Until next time!**


	4. 12 Grimmauld Place

**Sooooooo, another chapter, my friends! Just a heads up, they're all probably going to be this length. Nice little five minute reading or whatever. Well, have fun with this chapter. Oh! Also, little surprise in here so I'd like you to tell me what you ****_think_**** is going to happen in the next chapter. I bet you'll never guess! :3 (Except for you, gotdraco, but you're not allowed to tell them!)**

**Disclaimer: Do I have to keep doing these? Actually, while I'm thinking about it, did I do this in the last chapter? Huh, eh I'll pretend I did. Well, I don't own Harry Potter because if I did, the entire franchise would probably fall to pieces. I'm not so good at the legal thing.**

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**12 Grimmauld Place**

_CRACK_

A tall dark figure appeared in the middle of a quiet neighborhood. Grimmauld Place. It dragged a large box behind it to a house labeled 12 and slipped inside leaving the cold black night behind.

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Draco stepped inside the dark townhouse aggressively handling his baggage behind him then closing the door.

"_Lumos._" The light attempted to pierce the thick, dark air, but gained little ground. Draco only got as far as the stairs before something ran up behind him and jumped onto his shoulders making him topple onto the staircase, hitting his head and losing consciousness.

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"Uuuuuuuuhhhhhhhh." Draco rolled over onto his stomach and felt around. He seemed to be in a bed of sorts. When he tried to sit up, but the blood rushed out of his head, his vision blurred, and he fell back down.

"Do not try to get up, Young Master," a deep, croaking voice came from the darkness. Suddenly the thick, emerald drapes jerked open and sharp light flooded in. Draco averted his eyes quickly only to have a wave of nausea flood over him. As he waited for it to pass, he felt a cold cloth being dabbed on his forehead. As his vision cleared, he saw a face composed of pale, wrinkled skin and large ears with white hair like bushes poking out of them. "Do not worry, Young Master, Kreacher takes good care of you, yes he does, very good care of you indeed."

"Kreacher?" Draco whispered softly.

"Yes, good, Young Master speaks. Kreacher is here. Kreacher is sorry he attacked you. Kreacher did not know you were Master Malfoy. Kreacher thought you were dirty thief Mundungus Fletcher back to take precious heirlooms. Kreacher had to protect home and possessions of Black family." The leathery house elf continued to mutter to himself as he moved around clocks and vases seemingly without organization.

For three weeks, Draco laid in the large four-post bed recovering from his head injury as Kreacher muttered about arranging and rearranging books and knick-knacks so they took different positions but kept the same curious disorganization.

"We are happy the Young Lord it here, but Kreacher would like to know how Master came to the Black house," Kreacher asked one day while sponging Draco's head with a cold cloth.

"My parents were going to send me far away and for reasons I can't explain I have to stay here in England. I knew they would not listen to me if I were to tell them that so I came here. I know this place has a charm on it so no once can see it unless they know about it, but Snape told me about it." Draco explained, pushing the damp cloth away from his face.

Kreacher put the cloth back in the stone pitcher and jumped of the chair he stood on to reach Draco's head. "How long does the Young Master plan on staying?"

With and effort, Draco sat up and readjusted so his back rested on the pillow. "Well, I'm not exactly sure. As long as my father is planning to send me to Durmstrang, I suppose. Although," Draco cringed as he tried to readjust so Kreacher helped him up and fluffed his pillow, "I don't think he will be willing to change his mind any time soon. So, I'd say plan for me to stay here…" he sat and stared at the ceiling as he considered. "Say, forever." He put his arms behind his head and with an effort, relaxed. "Yes, plan for forever."

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When Draco was finally able to get out of bed without assistance, he explored the house finding drawing rooms, mounted house elf heads in the hall, an underground kitchen, and empty bedrooms two of which were clad in Hogwarts house colors. There were also moving portraits on the walls mostly covered up, but they all just sat quietly or smiled at him when he looked at them.

After a while, he go bored of simply exploring, so as he wandered about the house he cleaned here and there, much to the protest of Kreacher. He polished display cases, scrubbed the floor, washed and organized dishes, and dusted absolutely everything. When everything was clean, he still felt restless, so he fixed broken and misbalanced chairs, used magic to mend peeling paint and wallpaper restored the color to all the faded colors so the whole house looked like brand new. The entire refurbishment took a matter of months, but Draco actually enjoyed the work and took pride in his work.

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One morning, Draco sat in the kitchen with a morning cup of tea. Everything was clean, put away, and the neighborhood was still quiet. He had yet to take the Fidelius Charm off the house, though he had considered it. He decided the less people knew about the house the better. Besides, what is the use of a hiding place if everyone knew about it? So, the house stayed hidden and he remained missing. The Daily Prophet was delivered to the house, though he never remembered subscribing. He saw that his parents had not put out an ad for his disappearance. Whether out of pride, understanding, or because they now considered him a man able to take care of himself he did not know, but at least he was able to go to Diagon Alley for supplies. He once attempted to shop at the muggle grocery store, and he rather enjoyed the experience. It was very clean, well lit, the produce was of a fine quality, and the muggles were very friendly, but he had a problem actually purchasing the items. The muggle shop owner did not accept galleons. It was mildly embracing standing at the counter, as the sweet old muggle man had to decline his money. A simple memory charm took care of the problem, but he still felt bad about it.

Kreacher walked in wearing a clean, new pillowcase Draco had given him after a bath. The house elf had fought and avoided the cleansing at all costs, but Draco finally ordered him to cooperate and after that, it was simple. "Let Kreacher take your cup, Master." Kreacher held out his hands with a smile.

"Oh, thank you, Kreacher," Draco held out his white and gold teacup and the leathery old house elf took if from him carefully, but as Draco let go, he suddenly felt an intense pain in his stomach. It was a searing pain like someone had plunged a million daggers into a single spot. He doubled over, fell out of his chair curling into fetal position as he held his stomach, and yelled in pain. Kreacher dropped the teacup, which shattered, and ran to Draco's side.

"Master? Young Lord! What's wrong? Talk to Kreacher! What is wrong?" he yelled holding onto Draco's right arm for lack of anything else to do.

The pain was so intense Draco could not stop screaming until finally, a rush came over him and he passed out on the kitchen floor. Kreacher stood next to Draco for an hour trying to wake him, but to no avail until he finally lost his voice and floated him up to the master bedroom and put him into bed.

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***gasp* DRACO NO! Some bad business is going down! So, what do you think is happening? Huh? Leave a review with general opinion and what you think's going on (excluding you, Lord Prime Minister Sir). Or don't. I just want to know what's going on inside your heads. Get inside your mind. 0_e Until next time! ^_^**


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